


A Peaceful Place

by callmewirkmood



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major Illness, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 05:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16907229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmewirkmood/pseuds/callmewirkmood
Summary: 1991. Brian visits Freddie at Garden Lodge.





	A Peaceful Place

**Author's Note:**

> OK let me preface this by saying I’m kind of glad the movie didn’t go here (although imagine for a moment, if you will, the BoRhap boys gathering around Freddie’s death bed? Welp), but I kind of had to. So here ya go - this is based on comments friends of Freddie’s have made about his final days (that he was “full of beans right up till the end”) and something Brian said: that although the word ‘goodbye’ was never spoken between them, they reached a peaceful place before Freddie passed.

The face sunken into the pillows is startlingly pale and almost alien, as are the matchstick arms resting on top of the blankets alongside the equally gaunt torso.

Resting in the bed, asleep and surrounded by several drowsing cats, is the man the world knows as Freddie Mercury. Brilliant musician. Outrageous showman. Dear friend to many, including the man now entering the room.

Phoebe had warned him as he escorted him up the stairs. “You haven’t seen him since he left Montreux, Brian, so if you thought he was in a bad state then... Just- prepare yourself, okay? He’s asleep now, but he’ll be so pleased to see you when he wakes up. He still revels in the attention, ham that he is.”

All the same, Brian is startled by the degree to which Freddie has deteriorated physically. He has the look of a man barely clinging to life, and Brian has to pause a moment and blink back quick tears before he loses it at the very worst of moments. Freddie can’t wake up and find him bawling at the foot of the bed. Unthinkable. Pity and sympathy must always be checked at the door of this house; all Freddie wants in his dwindling days are companionship and happy remembrance. Laughter. Music. Love. To that end, an acoustic guitar and a Yamaha electronic keyboard have been propped up in a corner of the room.

The sight of those familiar items makes Brian glad that Freddie is home, and not at some hospital. Even when he was younger, before the disease came and took over, Freddie never wanted to be alone. And now that he is at Garden Lodge, surrounded by all that and those he loves, he doesn’t have to be. The visitor’s chair by his bed, into which Brian now carefully folds himself, has rarely been unoccupied since Freddie accepted defeat in Montreux and flew back home for the last time. This house still knows the sounds of music and gladness.

What Freddie doesn’t have to know is that outside the walls of his serene retreat, things are not so peaceful and that earlier, Brian had to elbow his way through a press pack of reporters and photographers badgering him with impertinent questions aimed to get a reaction out of him.

_“How is Freddie, Brian? He's been holed up in the house for weeks. Does he have AIDS? Is this the end of Queen? Have you always known he is gay? Do you still stand by him in spite of his promiscuous lifestyle?”_

Brian considers himself a pacifist. He does not promote violence or even strong language in any way. But it had been all he could do not to throw punches out there. _Cunts_.

Now, in the presence of Freddie, his anger fades away and is replaced by crushing sadness at the reality of what he sees before him.

This is the man he’s toured the world with. His friend. They’ve been through every high and every low a life in the limelight can throw at a person, they’ve been at each other’s throats and they’ve celebrated triumphs, lifted up into the stratosphere by the adoration of as many people as can fill a sports arena. They’ve laughed, fought, cussed each other out, grudgingly reconciled, been closer and more connected in a lot of ways than Brian has been with anyone else, privately or professionally. Being in a successful rock band together does that; no one else can possibly understand what that bond is like except the two other guys who were there every step of the way.

God knows it hasn’t always been a walk in the park. Queen have been on the verge of breaking up more than once. But somehow, with a little help along the way, they’ve endured. The mother ship has stayed afloat because together, they are greater than the sum of their parts. _Queen or bust_ became their tongue-in-cheek rallying cry. They’ve brought over a dozen albums into the world - some arguably better than others, but they are all dear - and Brian likes to think that they could have continued as a group for years to come. After all, they’ve learned from the mistakes of the past. They’re older, somewhat wiser, not so ego-driven as they were as young men. _Innuendo_ had done well; there would still be a place for Queen in the future.

But what is Queen without Freddie? Without its beating heart, its voice? As of right now, Brian can’t, and doesn’t want to, think about that question.

Thankfully, before he can lapse into even gloomier thoughts, Freddie stirs. The eyes flutter open. They are, Brian notes, still bright and full of life, as is the smile lighting up Freddie’s face when he sees who’s sitting next to him. When awake, Freddie is still Freddie. His face comes alive and it’s easy to see the same man who walked up to him and Rog in that parking lot over twenty years ago and basically told them he was their new lead singer. Thank God for that. _Thank God._

“Hey there, Fred,” Brian says softly, and he smiles at his old friend. He almost cracks a joke about Freddie leaving him in the lurch back in Montreux - he never finished recording the vocals for _Mother Love_ \- but somehow, his mouth won’t cooperate. “Thought I’d come and check in on you. Make sure you hadn’t run off to join some other band. Or the Royal Opera House, God forbid.”

Freddie responds with his characteristic toothy grin. His little extracurricular adventure with Montserrat Caballé has already made him the butt of many jokes within the Queen entourage, but being a good sport he doesn't mind it. He himself has cracked more than a few jokes at his bandmates’ expense over the years, giving as good as he got.

“Queen until we fucking well die, right?” he says, paraphrasing himself from years ago. He’d proudly proclaimed it from stages all across Europe, surely not having a clue that the end would arrive well before its time. And then, with a dismissive little flourish, “Oh don’t you worry about me, Maggie May. I’m just taking a rest, is all. I could do with a little pampering, and Phoebe likes to feel useful. I’ll be back in the studio before you know it.”

He reaches out one hand and Brian grasps it, feeling the shape of fine bones through papery skin. It is a testament to Freddie’s resilience of character - and, perhaps, his own denial - that Brian actually, for a moment at least, believes him.

It hurts. And yet it lifts his spirits at the same time - the thought of being in the studio with Freddie and the others once again, doing what they love. This man’s mind has so much music yet to give to the world.

“Ah, Brian,” Freddie sighs, and he actually looks content as he carefully shifts about in the pillows before settling into the position most comfortable for his fragile body. “You'll have a cup of tea, won't you? Stay a while. I’m so happy you’re here, darling.”


End file.
